


The Garage

by domini_porter



Series: Scenes from Domestic Life [6]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_porter/pseuds/domini_porter





	The Garage

"Goodness, Jane," Maura cried, though her voice was muffled by the ton and a half of steel she was hidden beneath. "How long has it been since you've had your oil changed?"

"I dunno," Jane shrugged. "Like . . . six weeks?"

"Six  _months_  is more like it," Maura sighed. "There's so much buildup on these valves, I don't know if I can really do this right."

Jane snorted.

"This is serious, Jane! Do you realize what all these fluid deposits are doing to your gas mileage?"

"Making it . . . worse? I don't know, Maura, I just drive it."

"Well," Maura said, still managing to sound haughty even while wrenching at mount bolts, "you should be a little more attentive."

"Yes ma'am," Jane said, offering a mock salute that made her feel slightly ridiculous when she realized Maura couldn't see it.

"I mean  _really_ , Jane," Maura huffed, a socket wrench clanging to the concrete. "I don't even know if I'll be able to get the filter out."

"I'll just take it to the shop," Jane said. "It's not a big deal. I'm not really sure why you had to do it yourself."

Maura slid out from under the car. "I had to do it myself because it's important to do favors for friends when it is within one's technical and temporal ability to do so."

"You could just say 'because I wanted to,' you know," Jane replied.

"Because I wanted to, then," Maura said. "Please hand me that oil pan."

"Uhhh . . ." Jane glanced around the garage. "This thing?" she asked, holding up an oblong receptacle.

"That's it," Maura said, sliding back under the car.

"I don't understand how your garage is so clean. You could do an autopsy in here."

"Just because it's traditionally held to be storage for messy items doesn't mean it has to be a messy space, Jane," Maura chided. "Your closet, for instance."

"My closet isn't messy!"

Maura let out a snort of her own.

"Okay so it's a  _little_  messy," Jane admitted.

"Your closet makes nuclear fusion look like lab-controlled culture reproduction."

"I don't know what that means, so I refuse to be insulted by it."

Maura slid out again.

"It's messy, Jane." She disappeared back under the car.

"If I'd known this would involve so much abuse I would've just taken the stupid thing to Giovanni," Jane teased.

"I imagine his price would've been the same as mine," Maura said, her breath catching as she yanked at a particularly stubborn nut.

"But you're doing it for free."

"It's not costing you any money, that's true," Maura replied. "Though I don't think you'd disagree when I say it's fair to expect  _some_  compensation."

"I'm not going to have to run another marathon, am I?" Jane groaned.

Maura slid out again.

"That was your first thought on how you could repay me for changing your oil? Though I grant that your impulse toward physical exertion was right on the money, so to speak."

Jane didn't say anything, but she swallowed hard.

"Oh no," Maura said.

"Oh no what? What happened? Is it bad? Will it be expensive?"

"I got oil on my Elie Tahari."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"You're changing my oil and you didn't even change your clothes first, I'm not gonna be held responsible for that."

Maura slid back out from under the car and sat up, frowning at Jane.

"You should probably take it off, at least."

"Well, it's ruined now."

"Maura," Jane sighed. " _That_  was your first thought when I suggested you start taking your clothes off?"

Maura paused. "I see," she said, and grinned. "Of course you're right." She pulled off her gloves and slowly unbuttoned the cardigan, looking Jane in the eye the whole time. She slipped the sweater from her shoulders, holding it out to Jane.

"What should I do with this? I'm afraid to mess up your garage," Jane said.

"You can hang it on the hook by the door," Maura replied airily, ignoring the sarcasm.

"You know," Jane said over her shoulder, "I'm starting to feel a little threatened by your automotive skills."

"Why? Because you're supposed to be the butch one?"

"I'm not butch!" Jane cried. "I'm . . ."

"Sporty?"

Jane couldn't think of anything to say, so she folded her arms.

"Pouting doesn't make you less butch," Maura reminded her, sliding back under the car.

"Yeah, well, changing my oil doesn't mean you get to . . . I dunno, start wearing pants."

"I wear pants sometimes."

"Yeah, but you wear girl pants."

"What," Maura said, rolling back out, "are 'girl pants'?"

"You know. They're like . . . I dunno, fancy."

"You love my fancy pants, Jane." Maura winked, and Jane felt a flush start to creep up her neck.

"I like 'em better on the floor," she mumbled.

Maura smiled widely. "Me too," she said, her voice suddenly low and sultry. The flush creeping up Jane's neck took full possession of her face.

"Uh," she said.

"You know," Maura went on, "I really like this dress. It's one of my favorites."

"Yeah," Jane stammered, "it's—it's nice."

"I'd hate for anything to happen to it while I'm down here."

"That would be—uh, that would be terrible."

"And it seems like a waste of time for me to get up, go into the house, go all the way to my bedroom and find something else I'm willing to destroy for the sake of your horribly inefficient, environmentally reprehensible car."

"Not all of us want to drive around in ugly hippiemobiles," Jane said, scowling. "Just because your carbon footprint or whatever-"

"Let's not argue about emissions," Maura suggested. "Let's just agree that I'm more environmentally sensitive than you are and leave it at that."

"Wait a minute, I'm not agreeing to that."

"Then maybe I'm not agreeing to taking my clothes off and fixing your car naked."

"Whoa," Jane said. "Whoa. Okay. You're clearly the greenest, and I'm sorry if I ever said you weren't."

"All right, then," Maura said, a satisfied look on her face. "Help me up."

Jane crossed to her, taking her elbow and helping her stand.

"Okay, now unzip me," Maura said, a little impatiently.

"You know, I think that's my favorite thing that you say to me," Jane murmured, slowly pulling down the zipper of Maura's dress. She grinned as Maura shivered at her touch, grinned as she carefully lifted the dress over Maura's head, grinned at the sight of her, smooth and perfect, soft and warm, contrasted against the sharp edges and cold surfaces of the garage.

"All right," Maura said brightly, once Jane had put the dress on the hook by the door, taking care to avoid the spot of oil on the cardigan already hanging there. "This will be much better, don't you think? Easier to get any fluids off."

"Uh-huh," Jane choked, her mouth dry. "What about your shoes?"

"Oh Jane," Maura sighed. "They won't be under the car, there's no reason to worry about them."

"Okay," Jane said, trying to act like it was no big deal that Maura was laying down on a mechanic's creeper wearing only her usual embellished underwear and a pair of sky-high patent-leather heels.

_Nothing weird about that at all, Rizzoli. She's just perfect, is all._

"Can you hand me the socket wrench? I can't seem to find it."

Jane scanned the garage and saw the tool laying just out of Maura's reach next to the rear passenger tire. As she knelt down she glimpsed Maura, biting her lip as she poked at something in the sooty underbelly of the vehicle, the lean muscles in her arms flexing as she strained to work whatever it was loose, the glowing ivory of her skin an impossibly sensual contrast against the dirty pipes of the car's undercarriage.

The wrench slipped from Jane's hand with a loud clang.

"Careful," Maura murmured. "Or I won't let you give me a hand when I'm down here any more."

"Oh my God, Maura," Jane whispered, half-reflexively. "Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth?"

"Most of the time, yes," Maura replied, blowing at a strand of hair stuck to the faint sweat beginning to show on her face. "Will you get that for me?"

"Okay," Jane breathed, laying on her belly and scooting under the car, not caring about the potential damage to her wardrobe. She reached out and carefully plucked at the offending strand of hair, tucking it behind Maura's ear. "How's that?"

"Perfect," Maura purred. "Thank you." She glanced at Jane, smiling brilliantly. "I'm almost done."

"Shame," Jane said before she could stop herself.

"You want to not be able to drive to work tomorrow?"

"I could think of worse things."

"Such as?"

"Such as you being done changing my oil and putting your clothes back on."

Maura sighed, shaking her head. "Oh Jane, someday we'll need to sit down and talk about why you always assume I'm going to put my clothes back on."

"We will?"

"No," Maura said, setting the socket wrench down. "We won't. What I mean is stop assuming I'm going to put my clothes back on, especially before you've properly paid me back for my time and expertise."

"Uh-huh," Jane replied, not moving from her position under the car, though the concrete was cold and she was pressed against the front tire. "And how would you suggest I properly pay you back?"

"With your own time and expertise, of course," Maura said, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. Which, Jane supposed, it was.

"What expertise would that be?"

"I'm not the only one who's good with tools, Jane."

Jane gulped and couldn't help the vague feeling of wanting to disappear into the floor out of sudden embarrassment, but she pressed on.

"So what you're saying is . . ."

"What I'm saying, darling Jane," Maura said, sliding out from under the car again, "is I did this because I enjoy the challenge, but also because I expect you to fuck me. Right now, preferably, or as close to right now as seems reasonable."

Jane didn't move. She was sure if she moved even an inch she'd lose all control of her body and melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Jane?"

"Maura," Jane whispered. "You are both the best and worst thing that ever happened to me."

"Oh no," Maura said, her voice laced with legitimate concern. "How am I the worst?"

"Because sometimes you make it impossible for me to . . . like . . . exist as a normal person."

"What?"

"Maura," Jane said with as much patience as she could muster, "you are the sexiest woman who has ever lived. I get that you might not know that, but you gotta understand there are things you say to me that make me short-circuit as a human being, and especially when you say them while dressed only in your underwear and high heels, fixing a car—I mean, Jesus, Maura, if you don't understand why this makes me crazy, well, there's no hope for either of us, I guess."

"I don't want to make you crazy, Jane," Maura said, still laying on her back, a tiny trickle of oil pooling at her neck.

"I don't know if I believe you," Jane said, finally able to scoot out from under the car.

"I don't want to make you crazy," Maura said again. "I only want to make you feel happy and loved."

"Well, you're doing just fine at that." Jane pushed herself to her feet and crossed to Maura, kneeling down and swiping at the oil with her thumb. "But you also make me crazy."

"Well," Maura said, a touch uncertainly, "if it's not the bad kind of crazy-"

"It is the absolute  _worst_  kind of crazy," Jane said seriously, before sighing at Maura's worried expression. "I mean that in the best way."

"All right," Maura replied, "if that's a good thing, I suppose it's all right."

"It is more than all right," Jane said, leaning down, kissing Maura softly, letting her hand run up and down her exposed flesh, smiling against Maura's lips as the other woman shivered under her touch. "It's pretty much the only thing I want."

"Good," Maura murmured, shifting her body so that she was angled toward Jane.

"You know what else is good?"

"Hmm?"

"How clean your garage is."

"I thought you found the cleanliness of my garage worthy only of mockery," Maura said, pulling away from Jane briefly.

"Only 'cause I'm jealous that you  _have_  a garage. And anyway, it's a good thing it's so clean, because I know how much you hate to get dirty, and I was just thinking what a waste of time it would be to get up, go into the house, go all the way into your bedroom just to-" she slipped her hand down the plane of Maura's stomach, relishing Maura's soft shiver as she hooked her thumb under the band of Maura's panties, sliding them down her hips.

"Indeed," Maura murmured, then sighed and wriggled as Jane's fingers sought out her most sensitive places.

"Thank you for changing my oil," Jane whispered. "You're the best."

"I do what I—oh—what I can," Maura breathed.

"And you do it so well."

Maura smiled.

The wheels of the dolly squeaked slightly. Jane hit her head on the bumper more than once.

"You know what I don't understand," Jane said as they lay tangled on the garage floor where they'd tumbled from the dolly.

"Hmm?"

"How such a tiny bit of oil can get all over everything." She brushed her fingers over the spot on Maura's neck where the drop of oil had started, though it had spread considerably.

"You know how I keep things so clean, Jane?" Maura asked, pressing her lips to Jane's throat.

"How's that?"

"I always clean up as soon as I make a mess."

"That's a wise habit," Jane said, tangling her hand in Maura's hair.

"Like now, for instance, how we've both gotten motor oil everywhere. Not even taking into consideration how toxic it is."

"I suppose," Jane murmured, pulling her hand free, "we ought to take care of it, then."

"I suppose you're right," Maura smiled, her eyes closed. "And it would be terribly inefficient to take two showers instead of one. And I  _am_  the authority on environmental issues, we already established that."

"Mm-hmm." Jane grinned. "Please, Dr. Isles, give me a lesson in conservation. If I can't save the planet with my car . . ."

 


End file.
